Science of the Heart
by CharFire
Summary: A series of one shots centered around the world's foremost forensic anthropologist and a tough FBI agent - and how they fell in love.
1. Shot

**A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to my very first BONES fanfiction. I love the show so much and I cried when the series ended. So here is my attempt at a tribute to one of the best crime dramas I have ever seen.**

 **Also, I know I should be updating my other stories but I wrote this and so i'll be juggling even more stories to update instead!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Please review and enjoy!**

* * *

If there was one thing they had all come to expect, doing this job, was that for as much good they tried to do for others, for the dead, there were always those who would hate them. Who would hate what they did, what they accomplished. They hated the Jeffersonian team, and that hatred festered into anger, and that almost always festered into their lives being forfeit to an overly emotional thug with a gun and a decision to act as a vigilante against those who had harmed him, his family, etc.

Basically, they had learned that doing this job, solving murders and catching the bad guys, was going to create a lot of enemies - enemies who had an affinity to rage a dramatic shoot out in a "this ends here" stand off.

Sometimes, Brennan would sit and remember her life before she came to work with Brennan at the Jeffersonian, remember her life as a simple anthropologist and her life didn't involve murder or kidnappings or ransom or bombs, just history. Surprisingly, there had been a time when she never had to worry about being shot and killed just by walking to the diner or to work or to the park with Christine.

But they'd all been shot at some point or another. That was the strange and sad reality. Booth, granted, had been shot plenty of times before he met the squints, but it seemed to happen a whole lot more often since Bones and her crew had started working for the FBI. Not what he had figured when he and his bosses had decided to recruit the world's foremost brilliant forensic anthropologist and her team to use their expertise to examine a set of nearly deteriorated skeletal remains.

No, Seeley Booth had actually thought, for an embarrassingly long amount of time, that working with the Jeffersonian would be a lot safer, and easier, than just running wild in D.C, brandishing his gun like Butch or Sundance (in his defense, they were possibly the two greatest icons of American filmography, so being compared to them was actually less of an insult and more of a compliment - a fact his boss had not appreciated being told. In either case, Booth had resented the Neanderthal crack. He was a professional, and military trained, after all).

Seeley Booth and his boss and his boss's boss's boss had been wrong, very wrong, in assuming that a renowned professional such as Dr. Temperance Brennan would be logical and precise and an all around normal, easy to work with woman.

No.

Instead, he had been faced with a beautifully robotic genius who was stubborn, methodical, strong willed and refused to play by anyone else's rules except her own. Booth could see that she had had a….difficult childhood and that somehow, she had worked her way to the top - which, evidently, was far, far above him and everyone else on Planet Earth. Not that he found anything wrong with her - with that. In fact, Booth had to admit….it was almost refreshing.

Since he met Temperance "Bones" Brennan, his life had gotten a whole lot crazier, and it hadn't taken him long to see just how crazy.

It was actually on one of his first "outings" with Brennan, who had been surprisingly eager to go "bust some heads", as she had so delicately put it. They had showed up to Collin Belcourt's home in Arlington, a man suspect of beating a fourteen year old girl to death with some kid of multi-bladed tool, and then stuffing her body into a shipping container bound for South Africa. Her body had been there, decomposing, for weeks because the trip was delayed due to weather complications for the freighter, and finally, _finally,_ someone had the balls to investigate the god awful stench coming from container 544.

Now, after a week of following dead end leads, analyzing goop and bones and bugs and flashing pictures on a screen, they had finally gotten a real lead that panned out into a real suspect. Booth had taken Bones with him (she really hated that nickname, but it stuck, it really did) after much arguing on her part (talking about how he still needed her to identify the murder weapon) and they had just pulled up to Belcourt's large estate home and were walking up the drive when Booth saw it.

He saw it the way his training forced him to, the way a sniper picks out the smallest gap and aims - and never misses.

"Get down!"

In that fraction of a second, his decision was made, and Booth did not hesitate to dive right on top of Bones, knowing her onto the ground just as a gunshot cracked through the air.

"BOOTH!"

Brennan's scream tore through him at almost the precise moment the bullet did, catching his shoulder just above the collar bone. He was down.

"Booth! Are you okay? Oh my God, you've been shot. You're bleeding."

She was panicking, which was not a good sign. If there was one thing Booth knew about Temperance Brennan, it was that she always kept a cool head, especially in situations where normal people would potentially scream and cry and get themselves killed. She was smart - smarter than all of them. He was counting on her to help him, and for her to choose _right now_ to start acting like a normal person was not a good sign. For either of them.

"Bones. Bones!" He groaned out, trying not to yell through clenched teeth as he tried to apply pressure on his gunshot wound, but it was an awkward angle and blood was seeping through his fingers at an alarming rate. "Bones, listen to me. You need to go call for backup, okay? Tell them I've been shot and to send an ambulance."

"But Belcourt -"

"We'll catch him, okay, but not now. Not until backup gets here and certainly not while I'm down."

"Booth, if we wait to catch him, he'll disappear. We'll lose him, and we'll never get justice for what he did to Anika. Okay, he's got half the government in his pocket, and who knows how many men he has inside the FBI? I know you know that you don't trust anyone else to take him down but us. But he's clever, you said so yourself. He could get on a plane or boat and be out of the country by tonight, and then what will we tell Anika's mother? We could have had him, but we decided to wait?"

"Bones!" Brother tried to reason with her, but he couldn't think straight. He was trying to focus on too many things at once. "Bones, don't go after him. He's got a gun - he's dangerous, Brennan. I don't want you getting hurt."

"Booth, I can take care of myself. Trust me." Bones said, and through his painful, blurry haze, he watched as this woman - this beautiful, brilliant woman, pulled an enormous handgun from her purse.

"Brennan, what the hell?!"

"What?"

"W-where did you get that? Why- "

"I bought it. I figured that since I work for the FBI now -"

"You DON'T work for the FBI. You CONSULT for the FBI. There is a huge difference, Bones! You're not an agent."

She said something, but her voice was faded out, like she was suddenly a thousand miles away. Booth really didn't remember much else before he blacked out. When he came to again, he was staring at the flaky tiled ceiling of a hospital room. Slowly, his other senses came into awareness. He could hear the persistent beeping of the heart monitor, the whirr of the machines in his room, the low chatter of hospital staff in the hallway. He could smell antiseptic, bleach, and something coppery…blood. He felt the soft fabric of the hospital bed blankets, the coolness of his pillow….and skin. He could feel skin. As his mind became more aware with his body, he realized that someone was holding his left hand, and their skin was soft, smooth, and their fingers slender.

Booth turned his head.

Temperance Brennan lay asleep in a chair set up right beside his bed, his right hand clutching his left, her head hanging low in slumber. Booth couldn't help but smile. She was alright. She had taken care of herself, and even him.

Later on, he would find out that she had called for backup, and then chased down the bastard Belcourt. He would find out that Belcourt had shot at her - and that the bullet had grazed her temple. He would find out that Bones had quite promptly shot the man in the kneecap, and that it had been ruled self defense. He would find out that she had not once left his bedside since he had come out of surgery.

All of that, he would find out….later. But for now, Seeley Booth felt the drugs kick in again, and he chose instead to close his eyes and focus on the feeling of this wonderfully wild woman's hand in his.


	2. Deduction of Emotion

**A/N: Wow, thanks guys! So much support already for my BONES story and this is only the second chapter! I can't wait to hear what you have to say.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own BONES. The quotes in italics are from episodes in** **varying seasons. I'm not sure which ones, but they belong also to TNT and the show, not to me.**

 **Please review and enjoy!**

 _"_ _I wished that you could find happiness."_

 _I don't know what that means."_

 _"_ _Happiness. Love, laughter,_

 _Friendship,_

 _purpose,_

 _and a dance."_

 _-Seeley Booth to Temperance Brennan_

* * *

Sometimes she doesn't know how she could have ever been so stupid. It seemed impossible - she was, after all, brilliant - but then again, Temperance Brennan had never been very good when it came to matters of the heart.

Maybe she had been, once. Before her parents left. Before Russ left. Before the foster systems and those dark days of her teenage years and before her mind and books and learning and being the best became her only solace that there was anything to be in this horrible world. It was the only way she had figured out to help her survive, and then it just became habit, and then it was who she was.

She never even realized that maybe who she was, was a robot.

And then things started to change. She had met Angela, and somehow, they were friends. Temperance never had many friends. But she and Angela worked - and she reveled in that feeling of being accepted by just one person. Until Special Agent Seeley Booth.

Temperance Brennan saw life in a series of deductible, scientific, analogical sequences that could be explained by basic fact and logic. But when she first saw Seeley Booth - there was no amount of reasoning she could push onto herself that would explain the feeling of balancing on the very edge of something both wonderful and painful.

Here was a man who saw things in matters of both the heart and mind. He could understand the science behind a killer, why they did the things they did, what made them into who they were, and he could understand the heart - why they went back to a girl they loved, why they were so angry that someone owed them money. He could see the emotion behind the facts, something Brennan was never able to do until she met him.

He was the reason she started to feel things again. She started to feel….acceptance and friendship and love…and jealousy and pain all over again, emotions she had shut out because they never did any good for her in the past. But she couldn't help any of it.

* * *

 _"_ _Who are you jealous of?" Booth asked her, and she debated acting superior, saying something along the lines of how she didn't need to be jealous of anyone because she had what she needed. But that wasn't the truth, and he….he deserved the truth._

 _"_ _Angela." she said sadly. "Hodgins, Cam….you."_

 _"_ _Why?" he asked, and once again, she had him completely bewildered with her answer._

 _"_ _Because you all want to lose yourself in another person." she whispered, and she knew she would never be able to take these words back, but keeping them inside her was killing her, and she wanted someone to hear her. "You believe that love is transcendent and eternal. I want to believe that too."_

* * *

Her mind and her heart were always at war. It was a fact that always had her convinced that she was destined to be alone, to intimidating for anyone to dare and face the challenge of loving her, of trying to have her love them back. That, and her past….how everyone left her at one time or another…her parents, her brother, even Sully….every relationship ended, and sometimes it went well and other times it blew up in her face.

* * *

 _"_ _All relationships are temporary." She said matter-of-factly, not caring that he was looking at her as if she was insane. This was a fact, something she had learned and experienced for herself, and he knew better to dispute facts with her._

 _"_ _That's not true, Bones." he said, surprising her. "You're wrong."_

 _Wrong? She was never wrong. But…she said nothing. Instead, she was looking hopefully at Booth, waiting for something that would give her hope or even the littlest bit of understanding where his faith and conviction came from._

 _"_ _There is someone you're meant to spend the rest of your life with. You just have to be open enough to see it, that's all."_

* * *

Laying here now, her head resting on Booth's chest, listening to his heartbeat, with their daughter, Christine, swaddled between them, Brennan smiles. It had been a long road to get here, but it was over now. She had a family of her own. She had a daughter, and a husband - someone who loved her, really and truly loved her. And she was happy. She hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

Love wasn't something quantifiable or deductible by science or fact. It wasn't anything she could spout off to sound superior or cold or detached. It was….it was something she had lost when she was fifteen, and now, being nearly thirty, she had found it again. It was a mystery she didn't think she would ever solve - and that was fine by her.


	3. Buried

**A/N: Wow, I honestly cant believe the responses I'm getting to this story.**

 _554Laura: a very interesting story…please add more_

 _karenb: This story reminds me of the way they acted and communicated in the early days. You did a good job with this story. I am anxious for the next one._

 _geraghtyvl: I'm really enjoying your stories. I hope there will be more._

 **Thanks, y'all! And as a reward for your support and kind words, and because i really don't want to do my research paper, here is a new chapter! Also, the letter is the real one Brennan wrote during the Grave Digger episode.**

 **Please continue to review!**

* * *

She told him that she still had nightmares.

* * *

 _"_ _Hodgins is bleeding, you're drowning. I - I can't help anyone."_

* * *

He knew she still dreamt about being buried alive in that car, running out of air, running out of time, and hoping that he would swoop in and save the day. Some nights, when memories of the Grave Digger resurfaced painfully, he would lie next to her, trying to give her some reassurance that she wasn't suffocating. That he was right there. And with every whimper of fear, every nightmare induced tear on her cheek, his heart broke a little more.

Booth didn't like to think about that day, when Brennan had been taken from him and suddenly he had found himself floundering with squints he didn't understand and trying to do what Bones always made seem so…effortless. And Hodgins - it was more terrifying than he had ever imagined, and they hadn't been working together long at that point. But suddenly, the idea of her being a victim - that's why he had run across the lot when he saw the tiniest puff of smoke. That's why he kept screaming her name as he dug and dug until finally he grabbed hold of her and just held her in his arms.

That's why he felt no real remorse when the Grave Digger had been killed.

Seeley Booth sat in his armchair in the living room. Bones was upstairs putting Christine to bed, which, after all the sugar and sweets babysitters Angela and Hodgins had given her, was sure to take a while. Booth pulled out a worn slip of paper, something he has carried with him for years.

* * *

 _Dear Agent Booth,_

 _You are a confusing man. You are irrational, and implausible, superstitious, and exasperating. You believe in ghosts and angels and maybe even Santa Claus. And because of you, I've started to see the universe differently. How is it possible that simply looking into your fine face gives me so much joy? Why does it make me so happy that every time I try to sneak a peak at you, you are already looking at me? Like you, it makes no sense. And like you, it feels right._

 _If I ever get out of here, I will find a time and a place to tell you that you make my life messy and confusing and unfocused and irrational and wonderful._

* * *

Booth has been carrying the letter Brennan wrote to him in that goddamn car ever since she read it as her vows at their wedding. Every morning, he slipped it into his pocket, and whenever a case got too tough, whenever things hit too close to home, he would take it out and read the very moment when Brennan admitted that she had fallen in love with him….and how she was too scared to admit it out loud.

Lately, though, he had taken to pulling out every few minutes. He just needed conformation…for what, he wasn't sure. But with what had just happened - Booth gripped the paper tighter. He couldn't think about that, even though it had been just yesterday…

Why did this case have to bring back those terrible memories? More importantly, why were there those whack jobs in the world that were fascinated with copy-catting murderers? Why would someone want to bring back the torment of the Grave Digger?

Why would someone target them again, after all they suffered?

Booth remembered fighting with Brennan over the stupidest thing yesterday morning -

* * *

 _"_ _Bones, why can't you just see my side of things for once?"_

 _"_ _Because it's inaccurate, Booth! "_

 _"_ _Stop! Just stop, Bones. Okay, for once, can't you just be normal and let the scientific bullshit that no one understands go, and just feel? Just - be normal!"_

* * *

And then he was saved by the bell, but not really because the hurt in her eyes haunted him all day, and they both answered their phones and were whisked away to the newest grisly crime scene. Bones didn't speak to him at all, and he directed all his questions through Cam. Why? Why did he act so petty? Why was he holding that angry facade when all he wanted to do was apologize and hold her and make her feel loved.

But he never got the chance. Piece by piece kept coming in for the case, and suddenly, before the could prepare, they had linked the body found in the shallow grave to a copy cat of the Grave Digger and everything became real - and then she was gone.

Bones was gone.

Booth, now and in the present, held that old letter tighter in his hands, trying not to tear it to pieces. He remembered getting the call - he hadn't even been there with her! He had sent Aubrey, a rookie, in the field with her because he had still been acting like a child, and because of that, Temperance had been taken by the copy cat.

She had been gone a full 24 hours.

24 hours of pure agony and heartbreak for Booth, who had to lie to his daughter to explain why Mommy wasn't home that night. And with each passing second, he had broken just a little more.

But it was over now. Booth sighed, releasing a breath he hadn't know he was holding. Bones was right upstairs, tucking their baby girl into bed. And they were good - he had held her and cried as he pulled her from the sinking shipping crate, kissing her over and over, murmuring his apologies and she shuddered and sobbed and screamed.

 _"_ _It's alright, now Bones. I'm here. I'm here, and I will never leave. I love you. So much. Okay, baby? I'm here. I'm here, Bones."_

* * *

 _"_ _Booth. Oh my God, Booth. Booth.'"_

 _"_ _Shush, I know. I'm here. I promise. I love you."_

 _"_ _I love you, too."_

* * *

Some days, he wondered if he hadn't ruined her life by coming into it. She certainly would have less near death experiences. But he opened that letter and saw how, even near death, she had though of him and thought that he life was wonderful simply because she knew him. And while it might not have been the most comforting thought, it made Special Agent Seeley Booth melt.

Slowly, he stood, replacing the letter in his pocket and making his way upstairs to his family. He had them, here and now. They were here, right now. That's all that mattered, at the end of the day.

That's all that mattered.


	4. Drowning

**A/N: You are all amazing! The reviews are beautiful. Please keep them coming. I'd love to hear what you have to say as I work. Speaking of which, shoutout to the following:**

jsboneslover: Wow - that one was an emotional tsunami! It's so great that he keeps pulling out that letter, but sad, too. Although, I think that makes their marriage more intense and meaningful- that proximity to death.

karenb: What a great one shot. It made me almost cry…you know the happy kind. You have an imagination I would like to have. This was a story that could have come right out of the real story.

LoveShipper: Whew another close call. See that Booth rereads the lobe letter his Bones wrote for him.

gatewatcher: Very intense chapter… well done :)

ZinaR: That was a wonderful and heartfelt chapter.

 **There are more that I haven't listed but I love every single one. All of you make my day that much brighter when you tell me these things and I just want to say thank you and I hope you continue to review.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own BONES or any such related characters, places, etc.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

 _Meeting you was fake…._

Temperance Brennan never liked being told what to do. No, she was fine with being instructed. But if she was "ordered", that's where she had an issue. When someone - some macho overly muscled douchebag in a suit - came marching in with a loud voice and a superior attitude and "ordered" her, expecting to her follow without complaint like a good little girl, it brought her to flashbacks of the foster system. She was reminded of the yelling and the hitting and the constant orders to behave and be normal and be quiet. And she lashed out. She still did.

But when the FBI - the epitome of macho, overly muscled douchebags in suits - came around and ordered the Jeffersonian, specifically Dr. Temperance Brennan and her team of interns and professionals, to work alongside a few of their agents with their high level homicides, she couldn't just lash out. She had to obey this order, and she hated it. She hated being under someone else's authority, hated being partnered with that smarmy Special Agent Seeley Booth, who immediately had tried to reign her in. She hated knowing that they were put together purposefully because the Bureau thought he would be able to match her.

Temperance Brennan based every decision of a person on a first impression. That first meeting between her and an individual counted the most in her mind…and between her and Seeley Booth, it was fake.

* * *

 _Becoming your friend was a choice…._

Seeley Booth found Temperance Brennan a woman of contradictions.

She was infuriating, for starters. She was always arguing with him, challenging every decision he made, every assumption on a case, challenging him with science and facts and logic, things that he felt didn't mean as much as the emotional aspect of the human motive. She was always, always, trying to prove herself to him, prove that she was somehow above him and his FBI standard, which made no sense at all. And every time he thought he was making headway with her, Booth would find out that he had taken three steps back and a wrong turn and he would be back at square one.

She was stubborn. She refused to listen to him half the time, especially when he told her to stay back and handle a potentially dangerous situation. Instead of listening to him and staying behind the federal agent, she would barge right in with him, completely unaware of the risks she was taking on herself. Again, trying to prove something to him and to herself that she could do this.

She was scared. It took him so long to see it, but she was scared. He wondered what had happened in her life to make her so closed off to her emotions. He had overheard her talking to Angela that Christmas they were stuck in quarantine in the lab, about how her parents had disappeared around Christmas, how her brother had tried to make it special and how he failed and then abandoned her too. And he figured that somewhere during that time, her fear of being left and hurt again, her fear of being tossed aside like worthless trash had overcome her and she had made the decision to lock it all away.

She was lonely. No one understood her, not even in her own field. She was in a class all by herself, and Booth never realized how lonely it must be to have not a single person who understood you. She had friends - Angela stood by her side more than anyone - but they didn't fully get her. They tried to change her, make her normal. And she wasn't normal.

So while she exasperated him, infuriated him, made him crazy with anger and fear and worry and sadness, she was totally unlike anyone he had ever known. Though he would never admit it to her, he had learned a lot just knowing her, and while she would never admit it to him, he knew she was studying and learning from him. Seeley Booth figured that if dealing with all that meant he could try and be her friend, to give her one more person who legitimately cared about her, then he would make that choice.

* * *

 _But falling in love with you…._

Temperance Brennan let the water run down her body, washing the asphalt, dirt, blood and sweat off her skin. She didn't bother raising her hands to further the process, just letting everything soak, letting the heat soak into her body and making her burn. Her hair hung in wet tangles but she couldn't bring herself to do anything. Her arms hung like lead, and she was leaning heavily on the porcelain wall, her eyes closed and letting her tears mix with the water from her shower head.

She had spent the lat eleven years closed off from her emotions. They clouded her judgement and made her confused and dizzy and vulnerable, everything she hated. And now, suddenly here came Seeley Booth and he somehow had found the key that opened the floodgates for all of that - why? Why? Why?! Why now, when she was happy? Why did she have to realize it all now, when things were good between them?

But they weren't, and Brennan knew why.

She was in love with Seeley Booth. She was drowning in how much she loved him, how much he made her feel like she was seen and loved for who she was. It was a feeling so unique she knew nothing would ever top it, and she wanted to hold onto it and explore it further and further. But she couldn't.

Because he was in love with someone else.

She had missed her chance. He once told her he was in love with her, kissed her, and what had she done? She had run away, closed herself off, and run far away. And now, here she was, finally ready to let him in, and he had moved on.

He had left her.

Temperance Brennan screamed, punching the wall in her shower with all the force she could muster before letting out a choking sob and sliding to the floor of the basin, holding onto her wet skin as if it might slid off of her.

This was why she had never let herself love. It hurt too damn much. Was that why they called it falling in love?

She couldn't breathe.

Maybe that's why she thought she was drowning.

* * *

 _Was beyond my control._

Seeley Booth was no stranger to love. He had been married once before, had a son. He had slept around, dated women seriously, been engaged again. He had been a player in this game for a long time. But every now and then the game would throw you a curve ball right out of left field and it would completely take you for a turn.

Temperance Brennan was his curveball.

She was so completely out of his control that falling in love with her was something he had realized out of the blue at three in the morning when they had just finished a case and were celebrating at the bar. She was laughing, and he marveled how beautiful that sound was, how her eyes crinkled, and how her lips curled perfectly over her teeth. It was when he had started thinking what it might be like to kiss her that he realized it.

He had fallen in love with Bones.

Booth had no idea how to proceed for the longest time. And things were fucked up for a while, and the time was never right. Who would've thought that the death of a dear friend would be the push both of them needed to get together? It was romantically tragic, like a Romeo and Juliet story, except Booth would be damned if either of them would die.

Booth watched his wife sleep - Dr. Temperance Brennan - Booth, his wife - and smiled as she curled instinctually into his side. He glanced to the nightstand on her side of the bed, seeing the baby monitor stand silently and thought about their baby girl. Their Christine.

Booth rolled closer to her and breathed in the scent of her lavender shampoo and strawberry body wash, and he fell asleep, drowning in the scents of love and comfort and happiness.


	5. My Wife and Kids

**A/N: You guys are amazing, you know that? I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. First semester finals have got me having panic attacks on the daily. But I've got a break now so updates are sure to come, I promise!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of BONES. This takes place sometime before Season 9, so Hank is not born and Booth and Brennan are not married. TBH, I don't really know what this chapter is.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

"Do you have children, Agent Booth?"

The man in front of him was a broken one. His wife and daughter had been murdered, their bones currently residing on the stainless bleach white platforms of the Jeffersonian, being analyzed by the best team of scientific minds this side of the country. Some might have said that it didn't matter where in the world you were, the Jeffersonian team was the best no matter what. But that hardly brought solace to a distraught father, whose girls were dead and whose son had been missing for thirty hours. Kidnapped.

Seeley Booth sat across the conference room table from Donald Jacobs, trying to give what little comfort he could that the FBI was doing everything in its power to find his son, Tony. But that could hardly dry his tears, ease his hacking sobs, mend his broken heart. So they sat there in horrid silence, and Booth was just about to stand and let the other agent, an Agent Seaver, take his place, when Donald Jacobs looked at him as spoke for the first time in over an hour.

"What?" Booth coughed.

"Do you have children?" Donald looked at him pitifully. "A wife? A family?"

It was a simple "yes or no" question, but the answer wasn't so much as simple. It was perhaps the most complicated thing in his life, and that was saying a lot for the ex-military FBI Special Agent.

Did he have children? Yeah. Yeah, he did, and they were two of the best things in his life.

Parker, his boy, his son. Parker had been his reason for living for so long, especially since Rebecca had been so stingy with the visitation rights and the custody battles. Seeing him just once every two weeks, or having him every other weekend, or even getting him for a couple days during breaks and the holidays was a miracle and it gave him a reason to get out of bed, to keep it going, so that there would be more days like those. More days with just "Dad and Parker".

Parker was the reason he had held onto his feelings for Bones for all those years, all before she actually came to return them for him. Parker had liked her, a lot, from the first moment they had met.

 _"_ _She's funny. And she says a lot of big words. But I like her. She doesn't talk to me like most grown ups."_

 _"_ _Oh yeah? How's that?"_

 _"_ _She doesn't talk to me like I'm some kid. She talks like I'm all grown up, like you, Dad. She makes me feel important and smart. I like her, Dad. Do you like her?"_

He had laughed, but what Parker had said really struck him. It was true; Bones never talked down to Parker, or to any kid. Perhaps it came from her not really knowing how to talk to people in general without flashing her brilliance at them, like the sun dazzling everything it touched. She could speak brashly, and gently, but she never chose to speak down to someone. She always spoke as if they were her equal, even though, in reality, no one would ever be.

After Parker, Booth saw, in his mind, the image of a baby girl, with chubby cheeks and thin brown wisps of hair, a toothless, dimpled smile on her face. Christine Angela. His daughter.

Booth remembered the day, the very day and the very moment, Temperance Brennan had told him she was pregnant - and that he was the father. He remembered the night that they had slept together and what it all meant for them, as partners and as friends, and how everything had felt so right, despite it emanating from the tragedy of losing Vincent. But when she told him she was pregnant….he didn't feel scared, or regretful, or resigned. No, in fact the biggest smile had crossed his face because here was the woman he loved, standing before him, telling him that she was going to be the mother of his child and that she loved him. She loved him.

And he remembered the day his daughter was born - and in a manger of all places. Christine came into the world screaming and crying and to this day, it was still the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. His daughter, only two years old at the moment, was the light of his life and had him wrapped securely around her pudgy little finger. He looked at her and saw Brennan. He looked at her and saw the absolute innocent faith and trust she had in him, her father, and knew that he would do everything on God's green Earth to keep that faith and trust alive for as long as he could.

He saw Brennan in his mind next, and this led to the complications for his answer. For while Christine and Parker were undoubtably his children, he couldn't call Temperance Brennan his wife. Not yet.

It was all because of that bastard, Pelant. That methodical, sadistic, cruel son of a bitch who reveled in having the upper hand. Booth still remembered that phone call, the one Pelant had made to him, threatening him into refusing Brennan's proposal and breaking her heart. And she still had no idea why it was he had said yes to her one day and then completely took it all back the next. The look on her face….it was similar to the look she had when her dad left, when her brother just took off again….it was the look of someone who had gotten so used to having their heart smashed to pieces, but had trusted one more person with it, only to have it end the same way. And Booth, who had promised never to do that to her, and gone back on his word. It was the sickest form of torture.

One day. One day, he would be able to tell her the truth, and she would understand and she would forgive him, because that's who she was. And then, and only then, would he be at liberty to propose to her, and she would say yes, and they would finally be married and be happy and it would all be over.

So one day, one day he hoped was not too far in the future, she would be his wife. So he wasn't lying when he looked back at Donald Jacobs and said,

"Yes. Yes I do."

"And what you do, in my place?"

"Mr. Jacobs." Booth sighed then smiled softly at the man. "You're son is still out there. And we are going to get him back alive. If I was in your place, I would let myself grieve for my wife and daughter, but I would also keep in mind that my son is still out there and he is going to need his father."

Booth began to walk out of the room, but was stopped once more by Donald Jacob's quiet voice.

"Your family must be…..lucky to have you."

"Yeah." Booth said. "But I'm just as lucky to have them."

For better or worse, he had them. And he would never be letting go.


	6. Dad

**A/N: I'm working on making these one shots more situational rather than reflective.**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who has shown support for this story! You guys are the best, and honestly this story wouldn't have been possible without your positive feedback.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own BONES, except on DVD! So excited to watch the first two seasons! It's been so long since I've seen the very beginning.**

 **This has some spoilers from the last season.**

 **Please continue to review!**

 _"_ _Daddy?"_

 _Max Keenan looked at his seven year old daughter, recently renamed Temperance, her birth name Joy now a guarded secret to add to their ever growing pile of sins and shadows, as she tugged on his sleeve. All there names were changed. He was Matthew Brennan, married to Christine Brennan. Ruth - that was her shadow and secret - had chosen her grandmother's middle name as her new alias. It was a little risky, but she said it helped her cope with the decisions they were making, what they had to do for their family. It was all about protecting their family. Their little boy, Kyle - now named Russ - and his precious baby girl, Temperance. She had been named Joy, for that was what she had brought into their lives. But there was nothing joyful about being fugitives on the run. There was nothing joyful in the way he had to shield his family from their past, and what was hunting them down. It had been a few years now, but the fear was still very fresh. He and Ruth did their best to shield that from their children at the very least, but as time went on, it became harder and harder. Max knew that Russ and Temperance (those were their real names now, there was no thinking otherwise) were their biggest weaknesses and it was only a matter of time before he would have to make a difficult choice or risk losing everything. Max felt another tug on his sleeve._

 _"_ _Daddy!" Temperance whined, and he chuckled at her attempt to have a stern look on her little pudgy face. It was clear she was trying to imitate her mother, and doing a fairly decent job of it, too. That's what made it so amusing._

 _"_ _Yes, Tempe?"_

 _"_ _Can we get ice cream after we find Mommy's birthday present?"_

 _Temperance grinned up at her father, her dimples very pronounced in her cheeks, still chubby with fading baby fat, and showing off her missing front teeth. Her father chuckled and she bounced up and down, tugging on his arm with childlike eagerness that was rare for her sometimes. Max knew his daughter was gifted. He knew it and Ruth knew it. Temperance. however, didn't seem to quite know it yet. She loved to read and loved to learn. She could rattle off a thousand and one facts without every getting tired, and it would be like the equivalent of him sharing last night's game with an old buddy at the bar. It was that causal. It was as if she had no idea that not everyone knew the history of the Mayan culture, or the mating habits of African elephants (Lord knew where she was learning these things). But even though she was only seven, there didn't seem to be any time where his baby girl was, well, his baby. She was already so adult, and at the rate she was going, she'd fly past them all in the blink of an eye. So it was hardly a decision when Max looked down at her twinkling eyes and smiled right back at her._

 _"_ _Of course. What's a shopping day without ice cream?"_

 _"_ _Yes!"_

 _He just wanted her to be his baby for a little longer._

* * *

 _"_ _Dad!"_

 _Max glanced at Ruth - Chirstine, her name was Christine - as he heard his daughter yell for him downstairs. Even though it had been over a decade, he still could not call his wife by her alias, even in his own mind. His children, sure. They had grown up with false identities without even knowing it. At least, Temperance had no idea. Russ, well…he had an inkling. He knew who he had been, and that was enough. But his wife, his Ruth….Christine fit her, it did. But Ruth was the one he had fallen in love with, and he refused to pretend it was anyone different, even by name._

 _"_ _Dad!"_

 _"_ _Answer her, Max." Christine a.k.a Ruth nudged him, tucking the duffle bag that had been laid out on their bed back into the closet, closing the wicker door tightly shut. "You know patience isn't one of her strongest suits."_

 _"_ _Wonder where she gets that from." Max quipped before running out of the bedroom, narrowly missing the shoe that was thrown at his head._

 _"_ _Watch it, Bub." Ruth's laugh followed him as he headed downstairs to confront his will and spunky fourteen year old daughter. Temperance Brennan had grown up to be the absolute spitting image of her mother. Even at fourteen, it was impossible not to see the similarities in their eyes, the shape of her face and the way she held herself, with more confidence than any teenager should be able to muster. But that was just his Tempe. She had no qualms about speaking her mind, and letting everybody know that she was right, which she usually was._

 _"_ _Was is it, sweetheart?" Max sighed as he came into their little kitchen._

 _"_ _Dad, Russ says he'll take me to the library if you give him gas money." Temperance said shortly, not quite meeting his eyes as she fiddled with her phone. She was always on that nowadays, that and her laptop. Max wasn't too worried - while she was a teenage girl, she was also his teenage girl, which meant he knew exactly what she was up to. She was also a genius with no real knack for social cues, which meant that her browser history contained searches for the most recent archeological finds in Mozambique or how to figure out the age of mummified remains. Admittedly it was really weird, and while it made him furious, he could see where the kids at school would find it childishly clever to call her Morticia. Yes, he was well aware of that, but there wasn't much he could do. If he confronted anybody at the school and things got physical and the police got involved, their goose was cooked. He had to let her take care of things._

 _"_ _Dad? Are you listening to me?"_

 _"_ _Hm? Oh, yeah. Sure thing honey." Max reached for his wallet, thumbing through the limited bills he kept stashed in there. Supplies were low. That was not good. But it could wait another day. Today, his children were together and being teenagers and things were normal. As normal as they could be._

 _"_ _Thanks Dad. Oh, and maybe a little extra? In case we get hungry?" Temperance looked at him directly know, emptied those sweet puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips that only a daughter can pull off to pluck at a father's heartstrings. She would be a heartbreaker one day, Max thought. And she would have her heart broken. One day. Not today._

 _"_ _Yeah, yeah. Why don't you just clean me out." Max grumbled good-naturedly, but he folded another ten dollar bill and passed it to the waiting palm of his not-so-little girl._

 _"_ _Thanks, Dad." Temperance stepped forward and raised her self up slightly (she was getting taller by the day) and kissed him on the cheek. "We'll be back by dinner!" And in a whirl, she was gone out the door. He heard the car door slam, the engine rev, and heard the crackle of gravel as Russ backed out the old truck and slowly moved out of the driveway and then down the block. They were growing up so fast, and growing out of his reach._

 _"_ _Max?" he heard his wife call his name. "Honey, we have to finish. It's important."_

 _Not as important as this, he thought. Not as important as our children. Don't you see we're losing them? But he turned away from his position starting at the door, heading back upstairs to the one person who could share in his suffering. One day, when it was all over, they would know the truth and they could be a real family again, the four of them. One day._

* * *

"Dad."

Temperance Brennan stood in front of her father's grave, staring at the stone words that encompassed her father's entire life, all on a tiny pitiful plaque. She cleared her throat, not knowing exactly what she was doing here. Booth had told her that it might be therapeutic. but he knew her viewpoints on therapy and psychology…

'This is absolutely ridiculous." Brennan huffed. "You're dead." she said to the headstone. "I know you are and talking to your grave isn't going to change that. You aren't going to talk back or give me the answers I need. It's pointless."

She stared at the small plot of grass. It was fresh and bright green, with no weeds or brown patches or other unsightly sores. She had made sure of that by coming every other week and cleaning up the edges. It was the least she could do, in the end. This time she had even brought flowers, which she knew was the appropriate etiquette in death. All in all, the grave looked nice. It looked peaceful. She stood there in the quiet for a few more minutes. Booth had said that when he was stressed or upset, he visited the graves of people he had known. He said he sometimes visited the small memorial that they had for Vincent and talked to him, to the squint who had been killed because of him, because it made him feel better to get things off his chest to someone who would just listen. Even though they were dead and could not actually be there to listen and it was just a means to talk to oneself - Brennan sighed.

"I'm sorry, Dad." she whispered, as if someone would overhear her and accuse her of….something. "I am so so sorry. It's been about a year since you passed." she sighed again. "No. You were killed. You were killed, Dad, protecting my children. Protecting Hank and Christine. That's your job, right? It was always your job, to protect your family. I just wish once you let me protect you. But that's my fault, cause I had to push and fight you half the time you tried to be in my life. t took me years after you came back to trust you again. Imagine what we could have done in that time instead if I had just let you back in?"

She sank to her knees, getting close to the engraved words on the stone. She could feel her resolution shaking and she struggled to keep her walls up.

"Dad…you saved my family. And I never got the chance to say thank you. I never said I loved you - I cannot remember the last words I said to you, but it wasn't that. I wanted to say it one more time, hold you one more time. Christine - she keeps asking for her grandpa and she doesn't know what it means when I tell her you aren't coming back. Booth is doing his best, but even over the last year it's been hard. We got through it, we always do, but…it's hard. Not as hard as it used to be….not like after it happened. But still. That doesn't change the hurt. Time does not heal all wounds, it merely allows them to scab over and harden until something scratches at it painfully and it bleeds again and then it becomes a scar. Your death is my scar. And so is Mom's and….I have too many of them to count, Dad, but I never thought…"

She was rambling. She tended to do that when she was particularly upset.

"I wanted you to know that I love you, Dad. And I know now, better than ever, why you did what you did. And I wanted to say….thank you."

She touched the gravestone gently.

"Thank you, Daddy."


	7. Small Fights

**A/N: Omg guys thank you so much for your reviews! I am not kidding when I say I read every single one and so far, they've all made me tear up. You guys are so sweet and you never fail to make me smile with each and every comment and review. Please keep them coming!**

 **This is a loooong one. Whoops but when inspiration strikes….**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own BONES.**

 **Review!**

* * *

Angela Montenegro Hodgins watched her best friend work in her office. She watched Temperance Brennan pile book after book on her desk, sort through mounds of papers and manilla files, even take a look at a new skull that had gotten shipped to the Jeffersonian from an archeological dig in Tibet. She knew what Brennan was doing. It was what she always did when she was upset, or stressed. And this time, she had been at it for hours. Brennan had been here at four when Angela came in, and now it was bordering on nine, and Angela had finished for the day, but it looked like Brennan was only just getting started and was nowhere near ready to go home.

Angela sighed. She was dying to get home to Michael Vincent, and to Hodgins, who had headed home a couple hours ago to relieve the baby-sitter and to start dinner - which she had missed. She checked her phone, saw the missed call, the text messages that she had let go unanswered because she had been so wrapped up in working on the Angela-Tron, inputting all the new data files and the images that the crime scene techs had finally sent over that morning that she hadn't had a chance to take care of yet for the case. Angela glanced again at her phone then at Brennan in her office. Sighing, she quickly turned away from the window's to Brennan's office and hit the number one on her speed dial.

"Hey, it's me." she whispered. She bit her lip as Hodgins' voice flowed over the line. Angela could always feel the same butterflies she had felt the first time he had kissed her, the first time they had made love, the first time they had said the words "I love you". Despite everything they had gone through, when they got married in that tiny little jail cell out in the middle of nowhere, it was the most beautiful thing in the world to her. And when they got pregnant, Angela had finally known that this was the only life she would ever choose. That he was the only one she would ever want.

"Yeah, I know. I know. I'm sorry." Angela said softly to her husband. "I promise I will make it up to you. But Brennan's here and I think she and Booth had a fight or something. I…I just need to check up on her here and then I will be home." It wasn't enough too make up for the plans she had blown by that night, but she knew Jack Hodgins would understand, seeing as there had been many nights when he had gotten so caught up with his bugs and experiments and compounds that he hadn't come home.

"Okay. Thank you." Angela smiled into her phone as she heard her husband and her baby boy making silly noises, yelling and cheering goodnight. "I love you too. Michael, Mommy love you. Mommy will be home soon, okay? Hodgins, I promise as soon as I can…..yeah, once she's alright. Love you, too."

As she hung up the phone, Angela turned back around to face Brenna's office and saw that she was still flipping through the huge book on her desk, shuffling a few papers and peering at them under her desk lamp before scribbling on it with red pen. If she had been anyone else, Angela would have said that it looked like Brennan was doing a lot of nonsense to keep her mind off of what was probably going on at home. But since it was Brennan, she knew that she probably was working on something important, whether it was case or career related, though it was still most likely about trying not to think of going home.

Angela walked quietly up to the open door and knocked on the frame. Temperance Brennan didn't even react in the slightest, just kept flipping paper after paper, making notations every few seconds before glancing at the book on her desk as if checking a reference before turning the page there as well.

"Brennan? Sweetie?" Angela said, but there was still nothing. It was as if she was in her won little world, completely unaware of anything and everyone else. Angela was starting to get worried. She had never seen her friend this far down the rabbit hole, and the fact that she wasn't even reacting to her name was proof that she was burying herself alive in her work and not making any effort to pull herself out again.

What could have possibly happened? Angela thought back to the case they had been working on today. She tried to remember and analyze how Booth and Brennan had interacted, if there was anything cold in the way he had touched her, if any of her remarks had been too robotic to clash with his more empathetic approaches, but nothing stood out. So this wasn't work related then. Whatever had Bones blocking out the rest of the world, it had to have occurred outside of work. It had to be something that happened at home.

Angela knew that sometimes, for them, working was the most therapeutic when things got bad. But this wasn't therapy. This was unhealthy, obsession, and controlled madness. So it was with little regret that Angela marched right into the office, not bothering with being quiet or gentle, and snatched the pen right out of Brennan's hands. In one quick move, she had also closed the book and swiped all the papers off her desk and into a giant, messy pile that she took into her arms, carried across the room and dumped on the small corner table.

"Wha- Ange!" Brennan finally spoke, and her voice cracked from it's lack of use. Angela turned to see her standing now, her face a mix of surprise, anger, and confusion. "I was working."

"No, honey, you were drowning." Angela said. Normally she would running over to her best friend's side, holding her, trying to get her to tell her what was going on, but this time she stood her ground. "I was watching you, Brennan, okay? You've been here for hours, longer than I have, and all you've been doing is working on - on - I don't even know! Just writing on paper after paper, never looking up, not reacting to anything. You didn't even hear me come in. You didn't hear me say your name."

"I…." Temperance Brennan started to say something but stopped, closing her mouth and sighing. She sat back down in her chair behind her desk, leaning forward just enough to put her elbows down and cover her face with her hands. "I'm sorry, Ange. Really, I just got caught up with…." she waved her hand over to where Angela had piled everything.

"Yeah. I noticed." Angela snorted, this time walking towards her friend. "What's going on, Brennan?"

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong - or, going on." Brennan attempted to deflect, but she had never been very good at lying, especially to Angela.

"Okay. Well, then I guess you mind if I call Booth. You know, just to chat." Angela feigned reaching for her phone, but Brennan's reaction was real.

"No!" she yelped, taking them both by surprise. "I mean, no. Please, Angela. I can't talk to him right now."

"What happened, sweetie? You guys were fine this morning." Angela sat down in the chair across from her friend's desk.

"I know. I know we were." Brennan sighed. "And we were fine when we went home, for a couple of hours. We were laughing, cooking dinner, and playing Tea Party with Christine. And then…."

"And then?" Angela pressed.

"Booth mentioned getting a dog." Brennan let it go as if it was the greatest secret in the world, but Angela thought she had missed something in translation.

"Okay…?"

Brennan sighed and leaned back in her chair. She looked tired, Angela noticed. Granted, the great Dr. Temperance Brennan always looked as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, but this was a different kind of heaviness. Angela didn't know how she knew that, but considering she spent so many hours of her day with brilliant squinterns and FBI agents, she was bound to pick up some investigating and intuitive skills. That, plus no one knew Brennan better than her, not even Booth.

"It's just…" Brennan started, "it always starts like this. Something small. He thinks we should get a dog, and I agree. I know the studies, the statistics on how dogs actually improve -" she sighed again. "I don't even have the energy to rattle any of that off to you, Ange."

"It's okay, sweetie. I know you know it, and that's enough for me." Angela assured her. Brennan smiled.

"So we agree that getting a dog interests us. But then Booth just went and said, "Great! I know a shelter just a few miles from here. They got an Adoption Day coming up and there are some German Shepard pups just waiting to be taken home. We can go and let Christine pick one out." And that's when I lost it."

"Lost it?"

"It's my fault, I know it. But I couldn't help it. He does that so often, just assumes that the second he says something I agree with, like getting a dog, I'm on board with him making all the rest of the decisions. Does he not know me, after all this time? So I asked him why he thought we were getting a German Shepard? I didn't have a problem with that, per se, but I wanted to know his reasoning."

Angele could already see where this was going. One comment leads to another, and it turns into a misunderstanding, which turns into a blowout fight…..last time that happened, Brennan had ended up being shot right here in the Jeffersonian by one of their own restoration members….Angela remembered sitting by her friend's side in the hospital and all of a sudden having her flatline right in front of her….it was a memory that sometimes still haunted her, mixed in her nightmares alongside Christopher Pelant and Hodgins and Brennan being buried alive, of Zack and Gormagon and Booth dying and something, anything, happening to Michael Vincent.

"It turned ugly?" Angela said at last.

"Very." Brennan nodded. "And over something as stupid as pets. It went from me questioning his choice in dogs to me questioning every decision he makes and then that lead to him saying I don't trust him and then I fired back that he doesn't trust me and thinks I need a chaperone because I'll end up offending somebody or maiming them and he said that maybe I was right and…." Brennan cut herself off with a heavy breath. "I know he didn't mean it. I certainly didn't mean anything I said. But -"

"But that's not much of a consolation prize, is it?" Angela said. "Sweetie, listen. I know it still stings, but you need to go home and talk to Booth. He's probably worried sick about you and feeling just as upset and guilty over the fight as you are."

"You think so?" Brennan looked up at her, and Angela was struck by two things. First, she was suddenly hit with the image of Booth, pushing Christine through the Jeffersonian lab in her stroller, calling for Brennan only to find her bleeding out on the floor. And then, when she looked back at this Brennan, here in the present, she saw how vulnerable and scared and sweet this woman was - a piece of her was still the abandoned fifteen year old girl, not trusting anyone and not believing anyone could ever actually stick with her for long. Those kinds of wounds never really healed, no matter how much time passed.

"I know so." Angela smiled. Brennan smiled back at her and, quick as a whip like always, she was throwing some last minute papers in her bag, snatching her keys and coat, and was running out the door, leaving Angela sitting dumbfounded in the dark. After a moment, she chuckled and and made to leave herself. Suddenly, all she wanted in the world was to talk to her husband. She pulled out her cellphone and hit the number one on her speed dial.

"Hey baby. Yeah, I'm on my way home now. Hey….what do you think about getting a dog?"


	8. Rustic Memories

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! I'm trying my hardest to get back on my updating game, so bear with me.**

 **Please keep leaving reviews, and also, don't be afraid to leave requests or prompts for one shots you'd like to have me write! I'll always take them into consideration.**

 **This is set just before Hank is born.**

 **Thanks, and enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 _"_ _What is wrong with her?"_

 _"_ _Angela, she started to change the day she met you."_

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _Well, she sees how you do it…big, you know? Big life._

 _Booth came along and gave her the opportunity, but_

 _She got the idea from you. Brennan wants a big life like yours."_

 _-Hodgins and Angela_

* * *

 _"_ _Mom and Dad disappeared and Russ took off._

 _Suddenly no one cared where I was._

 _I miss that. Someone caring where I was all the time."_

 _-Temperance Brennan_

* * *

Temperance Brennan sat in the rocking chair in her daughter's bedroom, watching her sleep. She hadn't done this in a few years, not since her baby girl was a newborn, but she had recently started up again, rocking in the corner as Christine Angela Booth slept on, running a soothing hand over her bulging stomach where her newest baby was also sleeping.

They hadn't decided on a name yet for their baby, though they knew it was going to be a baby boy. Booth wanted to talk names, but Brennan had wanted to wait, which had been a surprise to the both of them. Normally, she was all about getting ahead of the game, from pre-selecting Christine's top private schools and colleges to figuring out what dinner could be a week and half from now. But for some reason…she didn't want to name her baby just yet. They had done that with Christine when she was born. Spur of the moment, from the heart. That had been…beautiful, and Brennan wanted beautiful. Spontaneous.

A slightly painful kick jolted her attention to her stomach and she smiled down at the rounded bulge, running her hand over the sore spot.

"Hush, little one." She murmured, suddenly uncharacteristically gentle. "Mommy's here. Mommy's right here. And guess what? She's not going anywhere. Never, never, ne…."

Brennan trailed off, caught in the shell shock of a flashback. She had the sudden sense that she had once heard that exact same thing before, when she was a little girl. Her own mother must have said it once, long before she and Max had gone on the run, had left her in her brother's care and before her brother ran off, too, dumping her with CPS. It was a gentle memory from somewhere deep in her subconscious, and it unnerved her as well as soothed her.

* * *

 _"_ _Mama!" Four year old Joy cried out for her mother, who sleepily came into the toddler's room._

 _"_ _What is it, Joyous?"_

 _"_ _Mama, I had a nigh-mare." The child's mouth quivered and there were big, bulbous tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. "You n'Daddy were gone and I was all 'lone an' even Kyle lef' me and I - I don' wanna be 'lone, Mama! I don' wan you ta leave me!"_

 _"_ _Hush little one. Mommy's here. Mommy's right here. And guess what? She's not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere, you hear me, Joy? Never, never, never, for as long as you want me. I love you, sweet baby."_

* * *

Brennan looked back at her sleeping daughter, breaking the spell of the flashback. Christine was ecstatic about being a big sister, and Brennan was thrilled that she already seemed to love her baby brother before he was born. She knew sometimes siblings had trouble adjusting, but Christine was brilliant ("Just like her mom", Booth said) and said that being a big sister meant that she was officially "a big girl". She was just ….the sweetest and every time Brennan looked at her, saw what she and Booth had made together, it brought literal tears to her eyes. How had she become so lucky?

"Lucky lucky duck, all on your own. Where in the world has your family flown?" Brennan hummed to herself, and stopped again. Where had that come from? She didn't remember ever saying that rhyme before in her life…but it must have come from somewhere. She didn't just make things up, everyone knew that. Brennan believed she didn't really have much of an imagination to make things up like that. Yet….

Another memory. This one not as pleasant.

* * *

 _"_ _Look at the freak with no family! Haha, loser!"_

 _"_ _Shut up, Nolan." Sixteen Temperance Brennan scowled, shoving past the older boy. "I do too have a family. I'm only here temporarily. They'll be back."_

 _"_ _Sure they will. They just dumped you here cause they love you. Freak!"_

 _"_ _Fuck off, Nolan."_

 _"_ _Ooh, Miss Temperance Brennan's got a mouth on her. You know what they do to the kids who got mouths on them here at the foster homes?_

 _"_ _What? Feed em like they do every other kid whose got a mouth?" Temperance was angry. She was really angry. It was her sixteenth birthday and her family still hadn't come to get her, and she was stuck in yet another awful foster home, where the kids somehow found it cruelly hilarious that her own family had split on her. Even though she insisted they were coming back. She hoped they were coming back._

 _"_ _Nah. They toss em on the streets! Ugly duckling gonna get tossed out of another nest."_

 _And that was another thing. She was going through an awkward phase, with big bulky glasses and braces on her teeth, and the kids at this home, Nolan in particular, had taken to calling her The Ugly Duckling. It was just another name, she told herself, like how the kids at school would call her Morticia. Just another name. Names mean nothing._

 _"_ _Lucky lucky duck, all on your own. Where on earth has your family flown?"_

* * *

Temperance Brennan was brought out of her reverie by the sound of Christine's bedroom door creaking open. Seeley Booth's head popped through the opening, turned to smile at the little girl curled up in bed, and then caught sight of her in the corner, rocking back and forth in her bathrobe and slippers.

"Bones." He whispered. "What are you doing up, and why are you watching Christine sleep? Come on, time for bed."

He motioned for her with his hand, and she hesitated for a second. She didn't know why, but she suddenly dreaded leaving her little girl all alone, even in her own room. What was going on with her? Brennan looked at Booth, and there must have been something in her expression because his changed from a tired peacefulness to being more alert, and he cocked his head in question.

"Bones. Come on." He motioned again. "I'll make you some tea."

Now she stood up, a little awkwardly, trying to find her new balance with the weight of the child she was carrying, and waddled after her husband, still uneasy about her flashbacks and the unsettled feeling in her heart. But about what? What was she so upset about? That said, how could she not know why she was upset? Maybe it was just her hormones kicking into overdrive with her lack of sleep…that had to be it.

She followed Booth downstairs to their kitchen. She never got tired of saying that. _Their kitchen. Their home. Their bedroom. Their children._ She was never sure why, exactly, but she supposed it had to do with the sense that finally she had something that everyone else had. A home. A family. A place where she felt safe and loved and where she belonged. She hadn't had that in…a very long time before she met Booth. Fell in love, had their first child and now their second…

She absentmindedly took a seat at the counter while Booth went around to start up the kettle, which made her smile. He only ever used to kettle to make her tea. Booth thought it was too old fashioned, that it took too long so by the time the tea was ready, nobody wanted any anymore, but Brennan loved it. It soothed her, the slow motions of filling it with water, letting it come to a steady boil. It reminded her of her mother, how she would make tea when Brennan was upset.

* * *

 _"_ _I'll tell you what, Tempe. You can scream and rant and swear all you wish in the time it takes for me to make a cup of tea."_

 _"_ _That'll be five minutes, Mom. I can't possibly get everything out in five minutes! I'm just so - so angry!"_

 _"_ _Temperance Brennan, do I look like your father? I'm going to show you how I make tea, and you can rant and yell about your thickheaded brother until the water comes to a boil. But, once the tea is set, that is where you stop and let it all go and breathe. That is the way to make a cup of tea."_

* * *

Brennan hadn't understood her mother's logic. Not until they disappeared and she made her own cup of tea. She had found herself talking aloud, screaming and crying to no one (Russ was working the night shift, trying to take care of them both, of her) and when the water came to a boil and she poured herself a mug, she had suddenly found herself drained of all emotion…and somehow, feeling better than she had an hour before.

So when Booth turned the stove up, and placed the kettle on top and turned to face her, raising an eyebrow in question, she was ready to spill.

"I don't know why I was watching her sleep." Brennan sighed. "I just…I felt like I had to."

"Is this about the case a few weeks ago?" Booth asked gently. "Jamie, the little boy that went missing?"

"No." Brennan shook her head, running a hand through her hair, untangling the snarls. "At least, I don't think so. I mean, I haven't been thinking much about anything these last few nights except Christine…and this little one." She rubbed a palm over her stomach.

"Who we really should name one of these days, you know." Booth chuckled. "Instead of calling my boy "Little One" or all the other ambiguous nicknames."

"Soon." Brennan sighed. "Very soon, but…not yet."

"Bones," Booth came around the counter to press against her, a solid form of security and love, "What's going on with you? Half the time you're lost and thought, and not like you usually are, and the other half, you seem almost always ready to burst into tears. Seriously, talk to me."

"I-" She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. "I keep thinking…about…my family."

"Your family?" Booth said.

"My mother, Max, Russ." Brennan explained. "Even some of the foster homes I stayed at when I was fifteen."

"Okay…?" Booth paused, waiting for her to continue. For a moment, Brennan didn't know how to. She had no idea what her problem was, why she was so nervous and unsteady. She shouldn't be upset. She had a job she loved, she saved lives and caught murderers. She had a husband and a home and a family, which would soon have one person more to love, and -

And she saw it. Saw it so clearly that she stood up from the counter, shoving the stool back and backing away from Booth. She walked to the kettle, where a wisp of smoke was coming from the spout. The water was beginning to boil, and not just for the tea.

"Bones?"

"I remember what my mother used to say to me when I had nightmares." Brennan said sharply. "I haven't thought about that my whole life, and suddenly it comes back to me now. I remembered the chant some of the other foster kids would yell to me every day, calling me a freak because my family deliberately left me, calling me the Ugly Duckling and Morticia and I was so angry all the time because I hated them and I hated myself and I hated my mom and dad and Russ for leaving me all on my own. And I remember what my mom used to say when she would make tea like this, how she would let me yell because she knew I needed to vent, and when the tea was done, I would stop and feel empty and better."

"You want to vent? Okay, vent." Booth said, opening his arms. "I'm right here, listening."

"Christine is about the age Russ was when my parents had me." Brennan started. "My parents….what if we end up like my parents?"

'What do you mean? Your parents were criminals."

"I mean - my parents were criminals. Yes. But only because they thought they might be doing some good for the future. Providing something for their children."

"Bones, they were -"

"I know, okay? I know that! But just listen to me, Booth! Our jobs aren't exactly safe! We've been shot at. We've been poisoned and nearly died! Some of our friends have died because of what we do. Remember Christopher Pelant? How hI had to go into hiding with Christine for months? How that killed you? What if some sick psychopath pops up again and threatens us? What if you and I have to disappear like my parents did to protect Christine and - and her little brother? What if Christine can't handle caring for him all on her own? What if she isn't stronger than Riss was and just takes off and he has to fend for himself his entire life, never knowing what he did wrong to push his entire family away, not knowing he was loved more than anything else in this world?"

"Bones - Temperance, hey. Hey, it's alright." Booth tried to come around to her, but she backed away from him. On the stove, the kettle was shaking slightly, beginning to whistle.

"No, it's not alright, Booth. Why couldn't I have been normal? Why couldn't I have been like Angela, doing normal things like dreaming of being an artist and going to Paris? Why did I have to be a freak and have parents who made enemies who tried to kill them and a brother who only wanted to take care of me but got scared and dumped me at Child Protective Services? Why did I choose to be involved with the FBI where people wanted to kill me every other month and release poison gas and make bombs and turn my interns into killers and target practice and make me question whether or not anything is even worth it if it means hurting the people you love?"

The kettle was screaming now and Booth ran forward to lift it off the flame and turn it down before placing it on a cool burner. Once he did that, in a movement so quick she didn't have time or energy to deflect, he reached her and pull her into her chest.

"Temperance, listen to me. Listen very closely. First of all, you are not a freak. You are amazing and wonderful and unique and absolutely unlike any other woman on this planet. You are the love of my life, and if you're a freak, well then I guess I am too."

"You're not a freak." Brennan said softly.

"And you're not either." Booth said it so firmly, as if was a simple fact, like the sky was blue or grass grew in the earth, that she felt herself believe. "Secondly, Bones…I know how you feel. This life we chose, the line of work we're in, it's dangerous. And things have happened…bad things, that will haunt us for the rest of our lives and it's hard - so damn hard - to put that behind us and let it push us forward instead of dragging us down. But that's what we have to do. Let everything that happens to us become a part of us, a part of our history and let it make us better people. Christine and her baby brother, they'll see how strong Mommy and Daddy are, what we've gone through and they'll know that if we can survive all of that and all that's yet to come, then they can conquer the world, or ace that math test or ask out whatever boy or girl they think is out of their league."

Brennan laughed, despite the aching tiredness in her whole body.

"And finally," Booth said softly, "The risk is worth the benefit of a big life. The ones we love will be hurt. That's a fact and a trial of life. We can't stop it. Not really, not in the long run. But it's a risk we take, because if there's no risk of being hurt, then there's no risk of being loved, is there? Of living that big, wonderful, magical, adventure-filled life I know you've always wanted."

"Russ used to say stuff like that when we were kids." Brennan said quietly. "We'd be sitting on the step outside the house, watching cars go by, wondering if the next one would hold Mom and Dad, wondering if today they'd be coming home. And he'd talk to me, about the big dreams he had, the big life he planned to lead, and how he knew I was destined for big things in life." She choked back a few tears. "I miss him. Everyday, I miss my big brother who dreamed and called my name outside the classroom windows to see if I was alright and who was there everyday after school to pick me up. I miss the brother who wouldn't ever dream of dumping me on some smoker lady's front porch and driving off the same way Mom and Dad went."

There was silence for a long time as they simply held each other, Booth trying to soothe his wife as she broke down completely for the first time in a while, against the onslaught of broken memories from a lifetime ago.

"You know what, Bones?" Booth said after she had calmed some. "What if we name the baby Russ?"

Brennen pulled back and looked adoringly at her husband, smiling slightly.

"Are you kidding me? We'd never hear the end of it from him, and Dad would never stop insisting on changing the name to his. We'd be defending the name on both fronts. Plus, one Russ is enough for this family."

"So if not, Russ, what then?"

"Why don't we talk about that over a cup of tea?"


End file.
